


climbed a mountain to say this

by riseelectric



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-17
Updated: 2017-08-17
Packaged: 2018-12-16 10:59:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11827350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riseelectric/pseuds/riseelectric
Summary: Oikawa Tooru goes to nationals.





	climbed a mountain to say this

How happy is the blameless vestal's lot!  
The world forgetting, by the world forgot.

* * *

 

 

 

**0.**

"Ever heard of wishing wells, Iwa-chan?"

"No?"

"I have. Apparently, _gaijin_  throw money down them, and if they make a wish, it comes true. Cool, right?"

The other boy sounds doubtful. "I guess."

Oikawa pushes experimentally at the wooden lid that blocked the opening of the old stone well. It moves much more easily than he'd expected, and beside him, Hajime's voice rises suddenly in alarm and he thwaps Oikawa with his bug net. "Oi, don't do that!"

"Iwa-chan is a weenie," he huffs, knocking away the net and grabbing his friend by the hand to drag him closer. Hajime protests, but lets himself be pulled along.

"I'm not a weenie, I just don't want you to fall in!"

"The gap isn't big enough," Oikawa scoffs, but now that he looks back he realises that the pitch black crescent that was the well's opening does looks unnerving. A smell is coming from the darkness as well-- wet, old. Like rotten wood and moss and mold.

Out of nowhere, he thinks of the lady from Ringu movie. Suddenly, the prospect of opening the well fully is much less fun. He hides it on his face though, even as his grip on Hajime's hand tightens.

"I'm just gonna make a wish, that's all."

Oikawa leans over the gap, a 1-yen coin in his fist. He closes his eyes, but then his mind blanks. He wants so many things, he can't pinpoint and pick just one.

Hajime shakes him a little. "Hurry up already."

Oikawa opens his eyes and drops the coin, coolness leaving his hand even as Hajime's grip warms his other one. He purses his lips. "Fine, fine. I'm done."

The other boy tugs them away from the well. "What'd you wish for?"

"I didn't."

Hajime gives him an unimpressed look. "Why not?"

"I couldn't think of anything suddenly."

"Wow. Super lame, Tooru."

"Whatever, we'll come back and do it again tomorrow!"

"Yeah yeah, okay."

The two boys begin heading back to the path, chattering and not looking back once. They don't know it then, but it's the last time they visit the well for a very long time. The next day, Oikawa receives his first volleyball, and soon the visit to the well --and Oikawa's wish that wasn't-- is completely forgotten. In a few years, the surrounding area will be bought by a wealthy landowner, and against many of the local wishes, the well is knocked down. Before it can be filled in, protests by conservation groups bring construction to a halt, and since then the project has been left hanging. The gaping opening of the well is covered up, the area deserted and uninhabited, visited only by bored teenagers looking for a deserted place to smoke and perhaps do drugs.

In time, the only sign that a well was ever there are the wooden boards laid across it, marking the spot like a grave. Hajime's memory of that day will be blurred, but Oikawa himself will never even remember that the well existed.

 

 

**1.**

They stand together, eyes overwhelming with tears that neither of them move to wipe away, cascading down their blotchy faces. Their loss burns, of course it does, and Oikawa will never forget just how bitter disappointment is when it sits clogging his throat. But for the first time, he doesn't feel choked, doesn't feel like he can't breathe, like he's drowning in the face of the tidal wave that is their uncertain future. The Best Setter award is clutched tightly in his hands, clasped so hard its edges leave imprints on his palm.

"This award... it's proof that our spikers gave it all they had." he says out loud, refusing to wipe his eyes.

"Guess it means that Ushiwaka's higher, dammit." Iwa-chan's voice is tight as well, and he doesn't need to turn his head to know that his best friend is crying too.

Oikawa lifts his head, eyes spilling with fresh tears. This time, it's not disappointment that chokes his voice, but conviction. Iwaizumi doesn't know it, but his words echo in Oikawa's head. _The team with the better six is stronger._  They may have come in second, here and now, but it's not the end. Not by a long shot. 

And Iwa-chan will be right there with him, every step of the way. His foundation, his inspiration, his strength.

Oikawa clenches his fists, voice ringing. "Once we get into high school... that's when we'll show Shiratorizawa who's boss!"

"Naturally."

It's more than a promise; it's a wish, one they share and one they'll cling onto together, even as everything and everyone around them changes. They lift their chins high, proud, beaten but undefeated. In their eyes are identical dreams of blue skies, foreign lands, and endlessly high mountaintops.

 

 

**5.**

The lights of the stadium is brighter than he'd imagined, unexpectedly so. What's also unexpected is that he's trembling, nauseous, and he's not sure why. It's not even as though the sensation is new to him, since he feels it every time he steps onto the court. The place is packed, the roar of the crowd like white noise to his ears. He closes his eyes, repeats the mantra he's been telling himself since middle school. It's always grounded him, made him feel like he was invincible.

_The team with the better six is stronger._

A hand lands on his shoulder. His vice-captain, so strong, so steady, always present. The unshakable foundation of their team. The grip is tight, and Oikawa feels his nerves settle as a familiar voice murmurs to him, "Nervous?"

Oikawa laughs. "I can't believe we're actually here."

" _I_   can. Most of us have been dreaming of this since middle school. We've all worked hard to get here."

"Such conviction! You do realise I can feel your hand trembling a little, right?"

"Yeah, yeah." He moves around in front of him, and Oikawa can feel the other's eyes glancing at his face. "Hey. What's with that look?"

"Hm? What look?"

"Oikawa."

Oikawa sighs. "Just as expected of my vice-captain. Can't hide anything from you, can I?"

The crossed arms and raised eyebrows is reply enough, and Oikawa chuckles at the familiarity of the posture, giving in. He confesses. "I just... I feel really sick, actually."

"That's not that surprising. We're literally at _nationals_."

"Yeah but, I dunno. There's a weird feeling in my stomach, but it's not like I'm ill. More like... something's wrong. Something fundamental. Or like, someone's missing." He glances around at their team, joking. "We didn't lose anyone on the way here did we?"

The words sounds stupid even to his own ears, the joke just a little too earnest to be actually funny, but the other just takes it in stride, running a hand through his short black hair. Oikawa is grateful. "Hmm. Sounds kind of intense. Maybe our manager-in-training has something for anxiety... want me to get her?"

"No, no. I'll be fine." Oikawa smiles and flicks hair out of his eyes. "It's just nerves, probably."

A shrewd glance is cast his way. "If you say so. Just tell me if it gets worse, okay? Can't have our captain and main setter falling to pieces now."

"I'm not 'falling to pieces', thanks!"

"Heh. I believe you."

To his relief, Oikawa does feel the weird wrongness permeating his mind recede as they head back to where the rest of their team is. The firm, steady hand on his back helps. By the time they finish their warm-ups, it's all but gone, and he can only chalk it up to nervous excitement at the prospect of being front and center stage, at last. All eyes on him as he directs his team as they play to their utmost. The weight of the ball in their hands, making it fly over the net, or digging at the last second, protecting each other so they could all keep fighting. Keep playing. Keep standing on the court for as long as they could, until the end. Not for himself, but for his team. Because they’re in this together, every last one of them. Whether you start or bench-warm, change towels or fill water bottles. It doesn’t matter. Every single member is important. There are no useless positions on their team. So he’ll make this point and the next and the one after that count. He’ll keep fighting till the end.

Until they’re all at the summit, together, watching the sun set behind them.

On the court, Oikawa turns to face his team. His eyes flicker to his vice-captain's, and he gives an imperceptible nod. Pride for every single one of them and the sheer joy of standing right here, right now, wells up from his chest, overflowing his every sense until the tips of his fingers tingle.

"As always," he says. "I believe in all of you."

The whistle blows. Their first match at the Tokyo Metropolitan Stadium begins.

Oikawa smiles, and remembers how to breathe.

 

 

**4.**

This is it. This is the trap they've been waiting to spring all this time, just for Ushijima. Oikawa watches his team execute his plan perfectly, their outstretched arms unwavering as they leap _._ Their arms reach above them, high, impossibly high, without a single chink in their wall. They've got it down this time, no mistakes made. Ushijima's been hitting straights all throughout the match, and now they've closed in on him. Their first three-man block all match, in perfect unison to perfect timing.

Just one more point. Oikawa swallows, almost tasting victory.

Except Ushijima changes to a cross at the last second, and sends the ball hurtling diagonally across the net. Oikawa barely gets his arms up in time, and even then he can't control the trajectory at all.

Time moves in slow-motion as Oikawa opens his mouth to shout a warning. His mind is stunned, yet even now, in a corner of it, a current of clear thought continues to flow. _Even when his form was crumbling, he managed to change his course at the very end!_

Everything they did, everything they'd worked for, formulating such carefully laid plans from the start, and Ushijima had crushed it without even a hesitation, without a single sign of breaking. Oikawa's head pounds. His muscles tremble.

_Damn you, Ushiwaka. Damn you!_

Then his vice-captain _dives._ The Mikasa smacks off his forearm even as he hits the floor with a thud and a skid, yelling with the effort of receiving a spike by Ushijima. "I've got it!" he yells. "Get the last!"

Shiratorizawa manages to block their ace as he smashes the ball, but the force of the spike is such that the rebound bounces off of both of Kawanishi's palms and goes sailing right back over the net.

Screams rise as one from the bench. " _Chance ball!_ "

The vast court seemingly widens before him, infinitely stretching outwards, an endless sea of hardwood, but Oikawa no longer feels fear. He won’t falter or choke or stop racing to the top. Because he knows that if he falls, he’ll fall forward with pride, his head held high and heart firm, and there won’t be just one pair of arms pulling him back up on his feet.

Just one more point. One more. Oikawa takes a deep breath, the smell of Salonpas and sweat fill his nose. The lights above buzz mutely, barely audible over the roar of the crowd. The rest of the team scream wildly from the bench. A drop of sweat slides down his face, catches on his lip. Oikawa licks and tastes salt.

The view at the top, he can see it now. Clearer and brighter than it's ever been. 

The ball comes right at him, and he steps into position. He doesn't look down.

From the other side of the net, someone yells, sounding panicked. "Their number ten is coming!"

Except he isn't. Not yet. As Oikawa faces his team, he watches Hinata make the transition from minus tempo to first tempo. Slowing down, blending in.

Oikawa sets. Hinata spikes. The thud of the ball hitting the floor on Shiratorizawa's side is deafening in the sudden silence as the entire gym holds its breath.

In the shocked silence, the ref blows his whistle. The scorecard flips.

Final set, 21 to 19.

They win.

The whole team _explodes_ , shouting and howling with joy. Oikawa is buffeted around as the rest of the third years crash into a tight hug, all four of them yelling with tears streaming down their cheeks. Audience members around the stadium are on their feet with applause, their supporters in the stands chanting their school's name and cheer. Their teammates on the bench go wild, rush to congratulate them and become part of the chaos.

No one can stop them. Not now. Not ever. This is only the beginning, the first page in their book. It won’t be easy, anything worthwhile rarely is, but there are some sights you can only see from the top. And they’re prepared to climb mountains to achieve their dreams.

 

 

**3.**

Oikawa opens his eyes. A yell that sounds oddly like his name echoes in his ears. His vision is blurry, dark at the edges like he's just woken from a long sleep instead of only blinking away the sweat threatening to spill into them. He grits his teeth, wiping at his eyes furiously. He can't afford to lose concentration now. Not here.

The scoreboard reads: Karasuno, 25. Aoba Jousai, 24.

"Suga-san, nice serve!"

Oikawa tries not to let the excitement get to his head. He’s high-strung on pure adrenaline, running on gut-feeling and intuition. One more spike. One more toss. One more fast quick. One last play and they’ll take the match.

Sugawara tosses the Mikasa into the air, winds back his arm, and swings, sending it flying towards the front. Across the net, number four -- the one Oikawa has dubbed 'Iwa-chan' since the days of Kitagawa Daiichi -- jumps forward to receive. He manages to send it to Kageyama, but is thrown off balance. Good.

Kageyama tosses directly to Kyoutani and as expected of number 16, he spikes it down hard-- right against Tanaka's hands and forehead.

"Damn it!" he yells, even as Nishinoya screams his name from the sidelines.

The ball soars, and Oikawa runs forwards, trading places with Sugawara for a pipe. Hinata, Oikawa, and Asahi all leap, and it's Karasuno's ace who smashes it down. But Seijou aren't so easily defeated, and number 3's desperate dive saves them.

But it's off. The ball goes spinning far, far to the right side of the court. In a flash, Kageyama's running, following the ball's trajectory. Even from the other side of the court, Oikawa can hear Seijou's team yelling, "We're counting on you, Kageyama!"

Beside him, Hinata and Tanaka roar out. "Chance ball!"

Kageyama's arm raises. One finger outstretched, pointing directly at number 4.

Unexpectedly, a deep, acute pain lances through Oikawa's chest, so sharp it feels as if his heart had been wrapped in razor wire. But he has no time to acknowledge it, his eyes widening as he realises what Tobio is about to do.

Kageyama jumps, his arms whipping up and out as he yells. " _Iwaizumi-san!_ "

The ball _soars_ , a super-long and fast set-up from outside the court. It's a move that only Oikawa himself could have matched. Kageyama putting his all into that one, perfect toss, releasing the ball with the tips of his fingers, blindingly fast and pinpoint accurate even as he crashes into the tables, scrambling to get back up, get back in.

_Talent is something you make bloom. Instinct is something you polish!_

Seijou's ace jumps, high, higher than he has the whole game and soars above them all, phantom wings carrying him closer and closer toward the net. He swings down with a shout, palm slapping hard against the leather. Right on.

Oikawa rushes forward and leaps for the save, hands outstretched as far as they could go. But he misses, not even close to touching the ball as Iwaizumi Hajime spikes a cross past him so hard he feels the wind on his arms.

Behind him, he hears his vice-captain yell as he manages to catch the ball, somehow. Sawamura Daichi curses as the ball ricochets off his arms.

Tanaka Ryuunosuke covers for him just in time. His body lands onto the floor even as his arm goes up, keeping the ball in play. "Get the last!"

"Connect!" The scant members of Karasuno shriek.

"Chance ball!" screams Aoba Jousai, even louder.

Asahi thunders forward from the back line, slamming his palm into the ball with all the might and power of an ace. Seijou's libero barely catches it with a fist, only for it to bounce right into the net.

The ball drops.

Number 16 puts his foot down, bracing himself as he grunts, right arm reaching out to keep Aoba Jousai from losing as he struggles to keep himself upright. The ball goes up.

"Nice, Kyoutani!"

"Hit it, Oikawa!" Daichi shouts.

Oikawa's already in place. Across from him, Seijoh's first year blocker jumps as well, and Oikawa smacks the ball with all his strength. It flies off of Kindaichi's arms and whacks Sugawara right in the face.

There's no time to ask if Karasuno's backup setter is all right. From across the court, Oikawa hears Hinata Shouyou yell, footsteps thundering across the floor. "Give it to me!"

As if playing to a script, Oikawa turns towards Karasuno's number 10. His gaze is clear. He knows exactly what to do.

He sets.

Across the net, numbers 16, 12, and 4 race to intercept Hinata. They leap even as Hinata's in the air, and to Oikawa's horror, he realises that Seijou have flawlessly read the set-up.

Hinata spikes down.

And that's when they all realise that the block wasn't so flawless after all.

Number 16 is the weak link in the chain this time. The ball slams past him, and Kageyama's face is a mask of fury and shock as the ball bounces off his arms, flying irretrievably out of bounds.

26-24 to Karasuno.

As the referee's whistle shrills and the crowd cheers, Oikawa turns around to see Kageyama stepping up to the net. They stare at each other, Oikawa in black and orange, Kageyama in white and aqua. Two setters, sworn and destined in rivalry.

Oikawa speaks first.

"Now we're at one loss, one win." He doesn't smile, or gloat, or tack on his usual 'Tobio-chan'. It's a simple statement of fact.

Kageyama's dark eyes are equally serious. It seems to be taking him a tremendous effort of will not to look away.

"I won't lose to you, Oikawa-san."

Oikawa nods at the promise. Simultaneously, they return to their respective line-ups.

He keeps looking back at Aoba Jousai as the team gathers in a semi-circle before the coaches. Watching their bowed heads and slumped shoulders, Oikawa feels another pang in him, not as vivid as one he'd felt during the match, but similar, if dulled. For some strange reason, he almost wants to join them, wants to comfort them. And it _is_ very strange. It is not his place, nor is Aoba Jousai his school or team. When their ace had paused in the middle of the court, not moving until the other two third-years clapped him on the back, Oikawa had had to look away, fist clenched, the sense of wrongness coursing through him almost unbearable.

Still, his own team pulls him back from the strange mood, and Oikawa lets it happen, allows their victory to wash over him. He and Daichi share glances, grinning, until Nishinoya and Hinata barrel headfirst into their team huddle and knock them all over like ninepins. There's still the replay to discuss; Oikawa could have sworn that, at that final critical juncture, Kageyama had looked like he'd actually predicted where Hinata was going to hit. If it hadn't been caught by the block and therefore changed its course, Seijoh's genius setter might actually have picked it up.

But that's a discussion with his vice-captain for later. For now, Oikawa laughs with the rest of his team. They've past their penultimate hurdle now, and come out on top.

The team with the better six is stronger. He's never felt the weight of those words like this before, like he's actually living by them now. He doesn't remember at all who or even where he'd heard it from -- in all likelihood it'd probably been a line from TV, he'd watched a lot of volleyball on the screen then -- but what did that matter? Living by them was what had carried him here, to this moment.

Today, Aoba Jousai.

Tomorrow, Shiratorizawa.

 

 

  **2.5**

Oikawa stands alone at the end of the court, panting with exertion, his hands on his knees as he stares at the other end of the gym. The floor is littered with the efforts of his continued jump serves, but he feels no relief from the weight on his chest even after so many hours of practice. His failure during the match today hasn't left his mind, not even a little bit. He's furious, disgusted with himself, and not knowing what else to do he'd stayed after practice, hoping that some extra practice would let him vent his emotions.

So far, it hasn't worked.

From the doorway, Iwaizumi Hajime watched him wordlessly. Oikawa's seen him around sometimes after hours, and occasionally Iwaizumi would even lecture for him to take more breaks instead of overworking himself, but the majority of their interactions have always been more on the court than off it. Oikawa wishes it wasn't; he likes Iwaizumi, and they get along well. It's fun to tease him on the court, but if Oikawa's honest, it's even better when Iwaizumi hits one of his tosses. Oikawa's never synced so well with anyone else, not ever. 

Oikawa turns towards the other boy, about to call out. But then he stiffens as he hears soft footsteps approach, knowing instinctively who it is.

"Oikawa-san." Kageyama says brightly. He holds a ball in his hands, eyes hopeful. "Please show me how to serve?"

Looking into those dark, hopeful eyes, Oikawa feels his self-control fracture as the very reminder of every failure he'd known, every sense of inadequacy he'd felt looks at him, _talks_ to him. His vision blurs, sees red.

_Get away. Get away._

Ushijima Wakatoshi's face swam in his mind, dark eyes piercing as he looked down at Oikawa.

_Don't come over here._

Before he can stop himself, his hand comes up, lightning-fast, reflexive. 

_Don't come near me!_

 A loud impact of skin on skin rings in the air. Kageyama's eyes widen.

Oikawa stood frozen, his arm caught in Iwaizumi's grip. The other boy's voice cuts through the red static haze in his mind like sea wind, cold and sharp and fresh, leaving it in ribbons. His eyes glint under the gym lights. They're green.

"What do you think you're doing?! Calm down!"

For two seconds, Oikawa stares at him. Then his arm goes limp in Iwaizumi's grasp.

"I'm... I'm sorry." he says, dumbly.

Iwaizumi lets go, glaring at him before he turns to Tobio. "Kageyama, he's done for today. You go ahead, I'll be right there."

"Ah, okay. Are you coming over again, Iwaizumi-san?"

"Yeah."

Kageyama, oblivious, casts a curious look at Oikawa as he jogs past. Once the door swings shut behind him, Iwaizumi faces Oikawa once more. He's still angry. Oikawa can feel the rage coming off him in waves.

"Don't," Iwaizumi hisses. "ever do that again. I don't care how shitty you feel, you need to have more composure!"

Oikawa grits his teeth. He wants to shout back, wants to explain to Iwaizumi that he just isn't _good_ enough right now, that he as he currently was couldn't win again Shiratorizawa. He wants Iwaizumi to know just exactly how much he wants to win and go to nationals, and that's why he doesn't have _time_ to be composed. He wants, no,  _needs_  to win, to win, to _win_.

But he keeps his mouth shut. Iwaizumi is his teammate, but they aren't friends. Oikawa has no obligation to explain himself at all, even as he loathes the selfrighteousness in Iwaizumi's tone. What the hell did he know about Oikawa's ambitions, his goals, his dreams? Nothing. Nothing at all.

So he grits his teeth and repeats. "I'm sorry. I was out of line. It won't happen again." he promises, because he does realise that Iwaizumi is right, that he would have crossed a line tonight if Iwaizumi hadn't been there to catch his hand. It's neither here nor there that Iwaizumi and Kageyama happened to be friends since elementary school. Everyone had their own biases, and Iwaizumi's been like an older brother to Kageyama since he was five. Of course he was especially angry that Kageyama had almost gotten hurt.

The other boy glares at him a while longer, then nods, accepting the apology. 

"Good." he says curtly. He doesn't offer anything else, and after a few moments Oikawa turns away, back to the court. Back to his own world.

Dimly, he hears Iwaizumi say something, but Oikawa's no longer listening. The sound of his own breathing loud in his ears, steadying him, calming him as much as the leather ball in his hands.

Behind him, the door opens as Iwaizumi walks through it, presumably to meet with Kageyama. It shuts with a finality, and an unidentifiable emotion wracks him suddenly. Oikawa can't explain it, doesn't know how to.

So he doesn't.

Forcibly, he suppresses the lump in his throat, and tosses the ball into the air for his next jump serve.

 

 

**2.**

The whistle blows. Oikawa is left with his hands outstretched, the impact of the ball bouncing off his forearms and away, out of sight. Just like Aoba Jousai's dreams of going to nationals. Just like his, and Iwa-chan's, and Makki and Mattsun and Yudachii's hopes of going to Tokyo for their last year together.

As captain, he keeps his cool. He doesn't shed any tears except in front of his fellow third years, and he vents his frustration before, during and after their dinner at the restaurant, and then at their impromptu game. But still, even he grows quiet as he and Iwaizumi are finally alone.

As they approach the crossroads, Oikawa suddenly realises he doesn't want to go home. Iwaizumi gazes at him questioningly when he abruptly changes course, away from their street, and down a path they haven't gone since they were children. Oikawa lifts his shoulders in a shrug in response.

"Let's walk a little while longer, Iwa-chan. Don't really want to go back yet."

Iwaizumi casts a look down the row of houses before turning away. "Yeah, me neither."

Their silence resumes as their feet take them to the site of the abandoned construction site. They walk aimlessly as the clouds above turn from bruise-blue to black. Moonlight illuminated their way as they step carefully around urban debris, passing to the shadow of crumbling skeletons of cement and concrete.

Oikawa still doesn't speak, and neither does Iwaizumi, but he can practically feel Iwaizumi thinking of some way to fill the growing silence. Without a word, Iwaizumi takes his hand and Oikawa grips back. They walk together like that for several more minutes, unconsciously closing the distance between them until they brush against each other with every step. The calloused pad Iwaizumi's thumb brushes his skin gently, back and forth, back and forth. Oikawa swallows, opens his mouth to speak.

Iwaizumi beats him to it. "You probably won't be happy, even after you've grown and become an old man." he says nonchalantly.

Oikawa blows out his cheeks, thrown off guard. Those was not the words he'd expected. "What!? Why are you suddenly placing a curse on me?!"

Iwaizumi continues doggedly, like he didn't hear him. "Even if you win a tournament, you won't be completely satisfied. You'll pursue volleyball for a lifetime." He adds, like an afterthought. "'Cause you're troublesome like that."

"Insults, even now!" Oikawa takes another step, only to be pulled back slightly by the grip on his hand as Iwaizumi stops in his tracks. They've paused near the edge of a field that nature was slowly reclaiming. Wild grass sprang up from between cinderblocks and broken wooden planks. Oikawa turns back to look at him.

Iwaizumi's gaze bores into him, green eyes black in the iffy moonlight. "But," he continues. "you  _will_ move forward without hesitation."

He pulls Oikawa forwards, back towards him, and Oikawa stumbles even as Iwaizumi lets go of his hand to cup his cheeks. Iwaizumi pulls him down and kisses him, eyes closed, expression serious, and after a split second Oikawa kisses him back, their lips moving slowly and softly against each other.

Iwaizumi pulls away first, his hands dropping. There's a look in his eyes that Oikawa has never seen before, illuminated by moonlight.

"You're the partner that I can boast of." Iwaizumi says. "You're a really amazing setter, Oikawa. Even if the team changes, that will never change."

Oikawa looks at him, cheeks warm. Then he nods, wordless. He turns away, gazing out over the field.

Iwaizumi doesn't seem to have planned an end to his little speech, but that doesn't seem to matter. His brows furrow. "What are you thinking?"

Oikawa sighs. "Thank you for your words, Iwa-chan. I hear you, I really do."

"Yeah? Then hear this: when we fight, I will defeat you, y'hear?"

Oikawa can't help but grin. He turns back to Iwaizumi.

"...Bring it on."

He walks back towards him. As one, they raise their hands, fists bumping together hard as their knuckles slot perfectly against each other. Oikawa's smile turns a little wistful as he adds, looking down at their connected fists.

"I just... I wish I could have gone to nationals, that's all."

Iwaizumi opens his mouth, but he doesn't get a chance to talk.

A sudden shake beneath them makes them both stumble, arms flying out to balance themselves.

"Holy shit, what was that?"

Another quake, even worse than the last. It doesn't stop, only increasing in strength as the ground seemingly tries to shake itself to pieces beneath their feet. In the abandoned buildings not to far from them, they hear something falling, crashes of the more unstable buildings as the unfinished walls fall and break. The tranquility of the site is shattered, suddenly turning into a dangerous place to be. Oikawa takes a step back, trying to find firmer footing, and steps onto something that snaps beneath his weight.

Iwaizumi hears it too. His gaze shoots to Oikawa's feet, and his eyes widen. "Oikawa, watch out!"

The earth shudders, the most violently yet. Unable to stop himself, Oikawa takes another step back. His foot lands on the ground, and then  _through_ it as wooden planks --the ones that had hidden the gaping entrance of the well for all these long years -- break.

He looks up at Iwaizumi, eyes wide. "Iwa-cha--"

A split second as their eyes meet. Then the planks snap as one, the sound of old dry wood splitting apart like thunder in Oikawa's ears.

The last thing he sees is Iwaizumi leaping for him, yelling, fear like Oikawa's never seen in his eyes. Oikawa reaches out, at that moment wanting nothing but to relieve Iwa-chan of that terrible look, but Iwaizumi's hands swipe at empty air. Too late.

" _Tooru!_ "

Oikawa falls. The darkness of the well swallows him whole.

* * *

 

 

Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind!  
Each pray'r accepted, and each wish resign'd.

(Alexander Pope,  _Eloisa to Abelard_ )

**Author's Note:**

> premise for this fic: "oikawa makes a wish to go to nationals, and the universe grants it by switching his and kageyama's places. in doing so, he inadvertently leaves iwaizumi behind"
> 
> aka be careful what u wish for kids


End file.
